


Moments to Remember

by westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Children, F/M, Family, Holidays, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-07-19
Updated: 2007-07-19
Packaged: 2019-05-15 15:50:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14793432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist/pseuds/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist
Summary: Christmas and other memories





	Moments to Remember

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

  
Author's notes:

CJ/Danny, CJ/OMC, Danny/OFC, Toby/Andy, just about everyone else

 

alternate universe - total fantasy (or is it?)

 

Rating Adult - oral sex

 

Spoilers through end of series

 

Not mine, never were, never will be, but they consume my soul

 

Feedback and criticism always welcome

* * *

December 5, 2014; Kensington, CA

Paul Reeves entered the kitchen, put one bag of groceries in the freezer, one in the refrigerator, and set the remaining two sacks plus the Subway bag on the counter.

Then, becoming aware of the silence in the house, he looked into the family room for signs of his wife and little Caitlin. (Paddy was attending a “sleepover” birthday party for one of the other little boys in his kindergarten class. When Paul dropped off the child this morning, complete with his little overnight knapsack and sleeping bag, Paddy told him to “be sure to hug Mama extra hard when she’s missing me tonight.” Ah well, from the mouths of babes –.)

Not finding anyone in the family room, he moved to the bedroom wing of the house. From the doorway of his room, the sight of his wife’s shoulders gently lifting in sleep caused him to smile. Then he moved toward the nursery. Caitlin opened her beautiful blue eyes as he checked on her. She smiled at him, grabbed hold of the little teddy that CJ and the dry cleaner had restored to a dry, sanitary state, and rolled over on her stomach, going back to sleep.

Paul moved her from her spot right up against the railing to the center of the crib. After talking with the Lyman’s and the Muñoz’, they decided to keep Caitlin in the crib for a while longer and to use a bassinet for the new baby. They had tried her in the bed Derrick used, but she wasn’t ready to accept the invisible boundaries of it.

Back in the master bedroom, he slipped off his shoes and socks, took off his sweater and slacks, and bent down to kiss CJ before slipping into bed beside her.

The scent of her perfume wafted past his face as her arm came up around his neck, pulling him into a more erotic, more inviting kiss.

“Thank God it’s Friday afternoon,” she murmured against the side of his face.”

“Thank God for little boy’s birthdays, thank God for sleepy little girls, and thank God for sexy wives.”

“And hot husbands,” she replied as his hand slipped under the elastic at her waist, came down over the thankfully quiet distention that was their daughter, and reached for her core.

A bit later

Paul felt all the signs and knew it was almost time. With his last rational thought, he let go of CJ’s head and her shoulder, not wanting to hurt her, or force her when he let go. As he clenched his fists, he felt the surge; then all was lost in release.

Still seeing the flashes behind his closed eyes, he caught his breath. He felt the cool air as CJ removed her mouth, felt the movement as she shifted in the bed.

As he breathed out “I love you, sweetheart, he heard the faint sound of her releasing his ejaculate into a tissue, the sound of a sip of water being taken, being swished, and being released into another tissue.

As she turned again on the bed and lowered her heavily pregnant body against his side, resting her head on his chest, he turned slightly to face her, kissing her eyes and nose. Whispering more “I love you”s, he weighed whether he had given her enough satisfaction when he had brought her to orgasm right before she had taken him in her mouth, or if she again needed his hand, his fingers, and his tongue.

He had been pleasantly and gratefully surprised when Mariska Daglikova, the obstetrician to whom Scott Winkler had referred them, told CJ and him that as long as there were no complications, they would not need to forego sex during these last weeks of pregnancy. When he and Alicia were awaiting the twins, Alicia’s doctor had been adamant about no activity for the last six weeks and he assumed that there would be a similar edict with this child. CJ had mentioned that with the twins, Scott said that because of her age, he would prefer that she not indulge in those last few weeks; with Paddy, she and Danny made the decision themselves, almost as if they were bribing God to give them a healthy, living child. With Caitlin, Danny was too tired from the treatments he was undergoing during that October and November.

Paul hoped that his joy did not show too much on his face when the Croatian immigrant told him that studies had pretty much proven that sexual activity in the last weeks of a normal pregnancy did not lead to premature labor or to any problems for the child.

Were it not for the deeply bruised and cut knees that a runaway trolley at Home Depot had inflicted on her yesterday, they would have made full use of the bolsters and pillows they had purchased a month ago, when even having her above him or having both of them on their sides became too awkward and only hands and knees would work.

“I’m sorry I can’t seem to swallow,” she said into his shoulder.

He sighed and kissed the top of her head. It must be the hormones; he thought they had settled the issue months ago.

_Alicia tried to stop herself from feeling smug, but gave in to the emotion. She leaned over to whisper in Brianna’s ear. “Maybe I was never able to walk around the house with no drawers under my skirt, maybe I was never able to bend over the dining room table and let him lift up that skirt, but at least I had no problem with – ,” she giggled._

“ _An’ if we were all the same, it’d be a pretty dull world, then, wouldn’t it? And didn’t you tell me that you and Danny didn’t make it all the way to your place a couple of times in the last few months? That you stopped by the side of the meteor shower and just -”_

After their marriage last year, CJ had raised the subject the first few times they used their mouths on each other, explaining that she had never learned, and each time, he reassured her that it was not an issue.

“Sweetheart, it’s not important. It never was, remember? Right from the beginning, I told you that what was important was your comfort level.”

It began that very first night, so many years ago. When CJ had told him that she was ready to take that final step with him, he had been almost as anxious as she was; he just managed to hide behind bravado. Although he had been taught much by his fraternity brothers at Dartmouth, all his knowledge about making love with a virgin was just that – teaching, not experience.

Afterward, he had been so glad that he had been able to give her initial satisfaction, to possess her with a minimum of pain, and then to bring her again to completion. He was humming to himself as he moved about the kitchen, preparing the simple meal for the two of them. When she came into the room in the peach nightgown that imparted a glow to her skin and drew his attention to her hair, her eyes, and her glorious smile, he felt better about himself than he had ever felt in his life.

As he danced with her after their meal, he reveled in the thought that he would not be taking her back to her dorm that night, that the arousal that was surging against her would not have to be sublimated by a cold shower or by reading 50 pages of Estate Law. He lifted the skirts of her gown, felt the warm moisture that indicated that she wanted him again as much as he did her. She reached inside his pajama bottoms and clutched at his buttocks.

He half danced, half led her from the living room to the bedroom, and eased her down on the bed. “Use the foam,” he whispered into her ear as he turned to fetch a condom from his nightstand. The packet slipped from his fingers and he bent to retrieve it. In so doing, he missed the slight grimace on her face as she inserted the applicator.

As he came over her, kissed her, and entered her, he was not rough and abrupt, but neither was he as slow and careful as he had been earlier that evening.

She bit her lip and tried to suppress the gasp that was ripped from her mouth. He stopped instantly and started to pull out. She used her hands to try to hold him in place.

“It’s okay,” she said. “I read a book and it said that it might take a time or two before the pain goes away, that I should just continue with the warm baths.”

Then he remembered what the guys had told him; then he was embarrassed. He kissed her again and carefully pulled out.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. We’ll try again tomorrow night, after you’ve had a couple more of those warm baths.” He eased the tight condom from his still very hard arousal.

She put a hand half on his hand, half on the erection. “Would you want me to -, could we - ?”

Giving a brilliant smile and a slow kiss, he put his hand on hers. After showing her what would give him what he wanted and needed, he pushed her thighs wide and began the digital dance what would do the same for her.

She reached her first “little one” quickly, thrust hard against his hand, and fell back on the bed. Then she sat up and quickly kissed him on his arousal, then quickly lifted away and blushed.

“Would you like me to - ?”

“Only if you want to, sweetheart.” He tried to keep his desire out of his voice.

She smiled and once again lowered her head to his groin.

“You’ll have to tell me what, how.”

He told her that she didn’t have to try to take all of him in her mouth, that she should avoid any sense of choking, of not being able to breathe. He told her how to move her tongue, how to use her lips, what to do to the ridge that ran down the length, to the circling ridge of his circumcision, how to use her hand on that part of him that was not encased in the wet warmth of her mouth.

He reveled in the feel of her hair on his groin as she worked her beginner’s magic. He stroked lightly on that silk, making sure that she had free movement of her head.

He began to shudder and moan, and she increased her tempo. As he exploded she jerked her head from him, but continued the motion of her hand over the length of him.

He came down to earth and reached down to pull her to his side.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“For what? That was wonderful.”

“For not staying. For not keeping it in me. For this mess.” She indicated the sticky whiteness on his groin, on his stomach, on her hand.”

“Sweetheart, what’s important is that you be comfortable with it. If you don’t want your mouth on me when I go off, that’s fine.” He kissed her, then reached onto the floor for the undershirt he had discarded there several hours earlier, wiped her hands, then himself. Kissing her again, he left the bed, went to the bathroom, and returned with a warm wet washcloth and a hand towel to finish the cleanup.

“Now, I think I got the better deal out of that and I’d like to make amends.” He moved down to the end of the bed and teased at her curls first with his beard, then with his mustache, and finally with his mouth. This time she quaked much more intensely against him and they drifted into sleep together.

The next day, he did make her take several warm baths and the next evening, he showed her how to sit astride him, letting her control the action, watching her face to make sure that she was not merely tolerating his presence inside her.

Over the course of the next few months, she learned to close her throat when he came, to keep her mouth on him. But she was never able to swallow and he never made her feel as if she was lacking as a lover because of it. Apparently, she never gotten over her dislike, be it with Danny or with the other men in her life.

So once again, he told his now very pregnant wife that she was fretting over nothing.

“It’s just that I feel I should, that if I loved you enough.” She sighed.

When she had made the same statement a year ago, he asked her who had put that idea in her head. (“Surely not Danny,” he thought to himself.) She told him about a guy she was with for a while in her late twenties, when her career was in a slump, when the last of her college friends had married, when her ego was at its most fragile. “He would grip onto the sides of my head and just hold me there. He told me I wasn’t a real woman if I didn’t. It took me about four months to get my mind straightened out, to tell him where to go and what to do once he got there,” she laughed, a little ashamed of letting him know that she had once been so weak.

“And Danny never disabused you of that notion?” he had asked.

“ _Of course, I did! It’s just nervousness on her part. For her, the first few times are as if she’d never - . And for all intents and purposes, this is new for the both of you even though - . Anyway, just reassure her. Sheesh! I never expected to be coaching another man in bed with my wife!”_

So Paul once more told her it wasn’t important, and then proceeded again to show her.

After a while, he went to the kitchen and came back with the turkey sub and two cans of ginger ale. They ate the food and mixed catch-up conversation with post-coital affection.

She turned a bit, trying to get more comfortable beside him.

He licked off the bit of mayonnaise that had dripped onto her left breast.

“Did you see Deborah’s email?” she asked, stroking his head before he lifted it from her body. (Deborah had sent the same email to both their work addresses.) “She expects to be coming in late on the 19th. It will be good to see her. I missed having the twins here for Thanksgiving.” And this year, I don’t feel as if I’m having to prepare for houseguests, she thought to herself, it’s just the kids coming home from school.

Paul was anxious to see his daughter also. When she called in late October, she said that she wanted to stay in New York, to get some extra time in on her internship. All her other work for the upcoming semester was independent study; if she spent more time now on the internship, she would be able to stay with them until February 1st. She would love to be there to help with the baby and the other kids. “Assuming you would want me,” she laughed.

Then Derrick called two days later and said he thought he would fly to New York for the November holiday to “keep Deborah company” and to “check up on Granddad”. Paul hesitated before asking the question; he knew that there was a special bond between his children, no doubt having started in those nine months they had spent together in the dark wet warmth of Alicia’s womb, that even a parent had to respect. But his paternal genes overrode his reluctance.

“Derrick, is there something I should be concerned about?”

He could hear the intake and release of a sigh.

“I don’t know, Dad. I need to play it by ear, once I get there. Will you trust me to let you know if I think you need to know?”

On one level, it turned out to be a good thing. Gina and her brother invited them up to Napa for the holiday and Paul thought it would be a good idea. They could drive up early Thursday morning and come back to their house on Saturday. Gina, her mom, and the other women would take care of everything, would insist that CJ sit with her feet up, and relax. And there would be no way they could host any foreign students if they weren’t in town, would there?

It was a very nice holiday. A second cousin of Gina’s, a Franciscan missionary currently working in Costa Rica, was visiting, so they left about 5:30 AM in order to be there in plenty of time for the family Thanksgiving Day Mass that would be celebrated right after sunrise. CJ and the kids slept in the predawn darkness as he drove.

Enclosed in the warm, dark minivan, he felt very much the protector/head of the family, and it was a good feeling. He knew that some of his friends talked about him behind his back, wondering if he was completely sane, taking on another set of children to raise just as the twins were so close to being through with school. He could hear them in his mind. “Two more kids at his age, not to mention he’ll be pushing eighty by the time that new baby is out of college!” “Let’s only hope he and she stop with this one.” “Well, I don’t see how they could have any more without medical intervention and he never seemed the type. I mean, he and Alicia didn’t go through any special stuff when she kept losing babies after the twins.” “Yeah, but this woman isn’t Alicia; she’s bound to have her own ideas.” (He winced at that last thought. Very few people understood the depth and the complexity of his relationship with his first wife. Alicia’s mind and his were so interconnected they often knew each other’s thoughts and feelings without words. It was only that his nature was more gregarious and more direct, whereas hers was more reticent and indirect, only those two little quirks that gave many people the impression that he dominated her.)

A year into his new life, he had no doubts. As he did every morning, he thanked the God in whose hands he had placed his life for all the good God had given him – his salvation, his health, his loves. The words of Eleanor Farjeon’s haunting “Morning Has Broken” echoed in his head:

“Praise with elation, praise every morning

God’s recreation of the new day”,

followed by the rendition of St. Patrick’s Breastplate that had been set to the same ancient Celtic tune.

They arrived twenty-five minutes before sunrise. Gina had a big pot of decaf coffee (“the only kind I’ll serve”) and some blueberry muffins ready. After the Mass in the old chapel where they had been married a year ago, the women (“But not you, CJ, you just sit and talk,” Gina’s great-aunt Sophia insisted) fixed huge platters of scrambled eggs, sausage links, and toasted sour dough bread.

At noon, Paul and CJ’s brother took the little kids for a walk through the vineyards to the old cave that served as the aging room for the winery. Each child was entrusted with a bottle of wine, champagne, or brandy to carry back to the main house for the meal. When they returned, Sophia was again scolding CJ (“No, just sit! Well, if you need to do something, cut up this melon, and wrap these slices of ham around it, but do it sitting with your feet up!”) as final preparations for the main meal were well underway.

The meal itself was reminiscent of the one he spent with her and her family when he and she were together at Berkeley and he enjoyed the fellowship of the extended group; this time he knew to go easy on the antipasto and the preliminary dishes.

On Friday, Paul spent most of the afternoon with the other men, watching football, while the women of the family surprised CJ with a baby shower. Tradition held that on the day after Thanksgiving, the men were in charge of the meals, which meant barbecued chicken, ribs, shrimp, and oysters as well as turkey leftovers.

On Saturday, laden down with several containers of left-over meat lasagna, cheese manicotti, sausage cooked with red pepper, onion, and mushrooms, five jars of basil marinara sauce, and enough fresh homemade pasta to feed them for the next four days, they took a roundabout way home, heading over to the Pacific Coast highway, crossing into the city on the Golden Gate bridge, then taking the Bay Bridge back home.

On Sunday evening, Derrick called after he arrived in Seattle from New York. He was a bit evasive about Deborah, but assured his father that there was no serious issue with the girl. He did finally manage to convince his grandfather to have a cleaning service come to his retirement community garden apartment every other week. (“It’s just so hard to adjust to the idea, Derrick. My mother worked cleaning other people’s houses; it doesn’t seem right that I should be making someone else clean up after me.”)

“ _Seems perfectly fine to me, boy,” Esther Dawson harrumphed at her son Joe. “Ain’t go no problem with it, at all, no sir.” Then she looked over at the little cloud sitting just south of Venus. There was a bit of hair, probably from that dog that belonged to that Concannon man who was always hanging around her granddaughter. She glared at it and it evaporated into the air. Now_ _ **that**_ _was the kind of dusting she enjoyed doing!_

Derrick also told him that his grandfather had already made plans to go to Columbus for Christmas, but if Paul and CJ wanted to call dibs on his company for next year - .

The sound of Caitlin’s gurgling came over the baby monitor, interrupting his wool-gathering. CJ was already up, had already thrown on her shift, and was heading toward the nursery.

He had just finished pulling on his boxers when CJ came back into the room carrying the little girl. Caitlin looked over and held out her arms.

“Papa! Want Papa!”

“Hussy!” CJ laughed at her daughter, handing her to Paul.

The two of them decided to take her for a short walk down to the playground, so CJ dressed while Paul played patty-cake with the child. Then she took over while he pulled on his things.

After an hour or so on the swings (and being lifted to the top of the sliding board), Caitlin was ready to leave so they returned home to a blinking light on the answering machine.

It was Morgan Seaborn. She was calling to confirm the details of the gathering on the afternoon of the 13th.

“I’m going to go to the bedroom to return the call, and then work on those reports I need to have done by the end of the semester,” CJ told her husband. “Come on, sweetie.” She bent down to pick up Caitlin.

“Stay with Papa!”

“Leave her with me,” Paul said, patting the spot beside him on the couch as he picked up the paper he had just skimmed earlier in the day. When Caitlin came over, he put a hand under her fanny to help her crawl up and snuggle beside him. She was growing so fast; soon she would be able to get up on the couch all by herself. Had it been a whole year since she had gone through those terrible nights? Sometimes, it seemed like only a few weeks ago.

In September, when they confirmed to his congregation what Mrs. Bialy and the other gossips were speculating about, someone actually asked him if, after the baby was born, he would still love Paddy and Caitlin as much as he currently did. It was one of the few times that he was actually at a loss for words. Luckily, he didn’t need any; the choir director pulled him away just as the man’s wife asked him if he could be any more of an idiot.

He reached down to stroke the brilliant red curls that lay across his thigh. “How could anyone doubt my love for you, Kitty-Caitlin?”

“ _Indeed, how?” Danny echoed Paul’s question. “And never doubt that I will love your daughter as much as you love mine. You and me, we will share these daughters, yours, and mine. They’ll be sisters, sleeping in the same room, sharing secrets, standing up for each other at their weddings, hopefully each of them to the soul to which they have been joined for so many eons. How lucky you and I are, for CJ to have given each of us a little girl.”_

CJ called Sacramento, identified herself, and after passing through two aides, was finally connected with Sam’s wife.

Since CJ wasn’t able to travel up to Sacramento for Sam’s Christmas Ball, the Seaborns had decided that the members of the old Bartlet bunch who were coming to the ball would also come to visit her. In addition, Morgan (or, rather, her staff) had arranged for a caterer and for housekeeping services before and after the party. All CJ and Paul had to do was open the front door when the bell rang.

CJ thanked the women, offered again to pay for the costs (and was again told to “not be stupid”), and asked after Sam and Gemma. She also asked Morgan how her own pregnancy was going (the Seaborns had gone public right before Thanksgiving) and the two women traded stories. Then CJ picked up one of the reports she wanted to finish before Christmas and the start of her extended maternity leave.

A few hours later

She woke up to the soft wet lips of her daughter on her cheek and the sound of her husband’s voice in her ear.

“Kiss Mama goodnight.”

She stretched and opened her eyes. She remembered the clock striking five, but now it was a bit past eight.

“Wow, I really nodded off, didn’t I? I’ll go start dinner.”

“Relax. I’ve got that under control.” Paul bent down and kissed her on the same place that Caitlin had. “Why don’t you take a shower while I read to her and get her to sleep.”

She noticed that he was wearing his green silk Dartmouth pajama bottoms and that he smelled of fresh soap and toothpaste. Obviously, her husband had some ideas about how the rest of the night should proceed.

“Papa! Read!” Caitlin grabbed onto Paul’s beard. She was supposed to be the center of attention, especially where her father was concerned.

He laughed and turned his face to the child. “Yes, darling, we’ll go read.” He walked out of the bedroom toward the nursery.

Caitlin was definitely Papa’s little girl, she thought. But then, Paul was also definitely a daughter’s father, both with Caitlin and with Deborah. When this little one comes, (she unconsciously touched her stomach), he would be on cloud nine.

The thought of clouds brought Danny to mind. He would also have been a daughter’s father. When they first found out she was pregnant two and a half years ago, Danny didn’t state any preference (and, given the experience with the twins, all they wanted was a healthy, living child), but the first words out of his mouth were “Well, do you still like ‘Caitlin Delores’ if she’s a girl?”

(She told him that she still liked the name they had chosen when she was pregnant the first time. A possible boy’s name took a little more thought. “Leo would be fine for a middle name, but since Josh and Donna already used it for a first name-“ she left the sentence unfinished.

“CJ, I’m still open to ‘Simon’ if you like.”

“Actually, I was wondering: how about ‘Brian Leo’ for a boy?”

He reached over and hugged her, grateful that she understood his affection for his first love and wanted to honor her memory.)

She had a vision of Danny in a similar scene as the one she had just witnessed with Paul. The pajama bottoms would have been the Kelly green of Notre Dame rather than the almost forest green of Dartmouth. Danny’s hair, mustache, and beard would have been a paler echo of Caitlin’s curls, and their eyes would have been the same shade of blue. Without losing one iota of her love for Paul, she wished Danny could have had more time with his little girl.

“ _So do I; but I have Danielle.”_

_He looked down at his inky black tuxedo. It was pristine._

“ _Daddy.”_

_He looked up. Danielle was wearing a tea-length dress. It was made of the same creamy lace that had been used for CJ’s wedding gown, but the style was more age appropriate for a pre-teenage girl. Alicia had gathered her hair into a ponytail on the top of her head and curled the red locks into ten or twelve twisting spirals. Her face glowed with nothing except innocent excitement about the father-daughter Christmas dinner-dance being held on the Moon._

_(Alicia smiled. While Danny saw only a fresh scrubbed face, Danielle was brimming with the confidence provided by peach lip gloss, a little bit of blush, and medium brown mascara on the very tips of her lashes. And where Danny saw puffed sleeves, a round neckline, a big bow in the back, white anklets and patent leather Mary Janes, his daughter was overjoyed with the sleeveless scoop neckline, the pantyhose, and the dyed to match silk slippers with the one-inch heel.)_

“ _These are for you, sweetheart.” Danny handed his daughter the corsage of two burgundy tiger lilies and Alicia helped her to pin them on the dress. “You look beautiful. If only your mother -” He thought his eyes were wetter, but he couldn’t be sure._

“ _Have fun,” Alicia said as the two of them left._

CJ headed toward the shower. If Paul had cleaned up – (She almost wished he hadn’t. There was something about the smell of her husband at the end of the day that really aroused her).

Afterward, she scented herself and then put on the nightgown that Deborah had given her for her birthday. The style was Grecian “cross your heart” with plenty of fabric to accommodate her pregnancy. Luckily, although her butt had expanded (“to balance the baby”, she remembered Diana telling her when she was pregnant with the twins), the gown still draped nicely. The color was a chestnut brown.

She left the bedroom and stopped by the nursery door. Paul was just settling Caitlin into the crib, making sure she had her caveman doll and her teddy close at hand. He bent down, kissed her, told her “Papa loves you”, and then turned around to smile at CJ.

Once again, CJ wished Danny could have known his little girl.

“ _That’s fine, sweetheart. One, two, three_ _ **, and**_ _; one, two, three,_ _ **and**_ _.” Danny led Danielle through the polka with practiced ease._

“ _No need to apologize,” he said as Henry VIII and Elizabeth I bumped into them. Then he laughed as the two monarchs collided with Oedipus and Antigone._

Paul closed the door to Caitlin’s room and, with his arm around his wife, led her toward the other wing of the house.

She caught the smell of chicken as they passed the kitchen.

He had set the dining room table with their good china, crystal, flatware, and linen. Two places, one at the end, the other at right angles to it. There were candles and an arrangement of greenery that he had cut from the shrubbery outside their living room.

Paul helped her into her chair, and sat down. Clasping her hands, he thanked God for the food, for her, and for the children.

The soup plates held the “Mexican gazpacho” they had invented by mixing fresh _pico de gallo_ with low sodium tomato juice and a squeeze of lime. When they were finished, he took the plates to the kitchen and came back with two dinner plates, each holding half of a small chicken. (The salad plates were already on the table.) He refilled their wine glasses with seltzer. (When it was just the two of them, he wouldn’t drink wine while she couldn’t.)

After about five bites, she set down her fork and reached over to touch his hand.

“This is wonderful, but why?”

“I have to have a reason for cooking?”

“You know what I mean. The ambiance.”

He lifted her fingers to his lips.

“Well, in about six weeks, give or take, we aren’t going to have time for this, at least not as often, and I wanted us to have this to sustain us through this next phase of our lives.”

He wasn’t going to tell her that it was also to boost her ego, her feelings about herself. He had noticed that as she grew heavier with their child, she seemed to be a little less sure of herself, of her femininity, of her appeal to him. It was most likely due to the hormonal storm raging within her, just like her renewed unsureness about oral sex. He had no doubt that she would snap back after the baby was born (though not necessarily right after, he reminded himself.)

However, there was one other reason that he could tell her.

“Also, I happen to find the sight of you, pregnant with my child, to be amazingly erotic. No, really,” he added as she gave him a look that implied she was being fed blarney. “You glow as if you know all the secrets of the universe, like the ancient Mother Goddess. I’m so incredibly lucky to have had this experience with you and I know that it will soon be over. I know, not soon enough for you,” he laughed, “but I want to have memories of these past six months, since Scott told us.”

She reached over and kissed his mouth. “I love you, Paul Reeves.”

After they finished the chicken and salad, she put her hands on the table, as if to get up and take away the plates.

“No, that’s my job.” He gently pushed down on her shoulders and kissed her mouth, then cleared the table. She could hear him rinsing the things and putting them in the dishwasher. He returned with two dishes of pineapple sorbet and when they were consumed brought both of them a mug of decaffeinated tea.

“Let’s go sit in the living room and look at the lights.”

As they relaxed on the couch, they continued to catch up on the day.

She told him that Paddy’s school had called, wanting to know if Paul would be available the week after next for the kids’ field trip to Alcatraz right before the Christmas break.

“They want me?”

“Yes. Apparently, you were a big hit with the staff when the kids went to the planetarium in San Francisco last month.”

He remembered the day in question, the day that CJ was just too tired to handle the commitment she had made. It had been fun.

When he first showed up with Paddy, one of the moms expressed surprise when Paddy introduced “my Papa” and then blushed and apologized. He laughed off the incident with gentle tact. He could sense that there was no real prejudice behind her reaction. On the bus over to the city, they got caught in some traffic that had built up due on an accident on the bridge. While sitting on the non-moving bus (thankfully, on Treasure Island and not on one of the spans of the bridge), some of the little boys became restless and were acting up, with each one feeding on the others’ antics, and the teachers and mothers were getting nowhere with the lads. His quiet but deliberate “Gentlemen” and accompanying stare did the trick and he distracted them with stories about some of the stars they would see illustrated on the darkened dome. After that, his wish was their command.

When the twins were growing up, most of his interaction with them was limited to scouting and athletic events and attending recitals; he was looking forward to being involved in a greater variety of his new family’s activities.

“Also,” she interrupted his thought process, “I found a beautiful dress for Deborah yesterday down on Telegraph Avenue, so between that and the gift card for the new microwave, I think we’re set for her.”

Christmas. What to do for CJ for Christmas? Of course, he would get her lingerie and he had found an angora and silk hooded scarf that matched her eyes, but he needed something else. He didn’t want to do jewelry, because that would be for the baby in January. Swallowing his pride, he had called Josh Lyman and asked for his help in getting just the right thing in garnet. Josh had come through with a marquise cut tennis necklace. When Paul thanked Josh, however, Josh told him that he in turn had gone to his wife, so the thanks should be directed to Donna.

There was nothing he could do about it, of course, but the special days came a bit too close together. First there was their anniversary in early November, closely followed by her birthday on the 19th of that month. With Christmas five weeks later and the baby’s appearance hopefully no more than three weeks after that, he had been hard-pressed for ideas.

By chance, he found out that the old apartment house where he lived for his second year of law school was being torn down for “urban infill”; he went to the new owners and offered to purchase the whimsical little sundial and bench that had graced the garden outside the dining room and that had appealed so much to CJ. The couple, touched by their story, insisted on giving it to him. Vowing to spend more money on her Christmas, he accepted .their generosity and gave her the pieces for their anniversary.

For her birthday, he gave her little miniature oil paintings of Paddy and Caitlin for her desk on campus.

Until late September, he thought he had Christmas all wrapped up, so to speak.

The idea came to him in March, when she talked about arranging to rent the master’s gown and the hood she would need to wear for Commencement in May. She asked him if she could order his at the same time, but he told her that he owned his own regalia. At that time, he decided he would buy hers for Christmas. She would need it at least once a year; it would pay for itself within three years.

Luckily, he hadn’t already ordered it when, in post-coital necking and conversation a month after school started, she told him that the Provost had suggested that she pursue her Ph.D., a real one, not an honorary one. In reviewing her graduate work from the 80’s, it was apparent that she was only two classes away from being ABD (all but dissertation). Personally, the Provost thought that the Public Policy path was the more logical choice, but if she wanted to do Poli Sci, that would be fine, too. Naturally, once she had the degree, it would mean more money --.

And, naturally, Paul was nothing other than supportive and enthusiastic for her, but told her the decision was hers.

But it left him in a quandary. If he gave her the master’s regalia, would she think that he had doubts she could attain the degree? If he didn’t give it to her (after having made some comment about not renting it every year), would he be putting too much pressure on her?

“Penny for your thoughts.” She turned to him and pressed a kiss into his jaw.

“They’re all about you and you’re worth much more than a penny.”

The kisses became more ardent; their hands began to move over each other; their breathing became more ragged.

“Sweetheart, do you think that if you sat on my lap with your back to me -?”

His penetration was shallow, only two inches beyond the head, but it felt so good to be inside her. She made frustrating moaning sounds and he reached around to give her the contact and pressure she needed.

It was a gentle orgasm for both of them, but satisfying in its own way.

Afterward, he leaned back and pulled her with him, one arm under her breasts, one under her stomach. As he softened, he slipped from her body. Lifting her slightly, he was able to slip out from beneath her. He managed to lie along the length of the sofa. By putting one leg on the floor and one raised against the back of the sofa, he was able to pull her down against his chest, with her legs hanging over the opposite arm of the couch. They lay there in quiet comfort, grateful for the guardian angel that was keeping Caitlin in peaceful slumber.

_Caitlin opened her eyes and smiled at the people standing next to her crib. They visited her often. She wondered why Mama and Papa and Paddy never talked about seeing them._

“ _Dada. Lisha.”_

“ _Hi, sweetie. Why don’t you go back to sleep? We’ll be here if you need us. There’s no need to disturb Mama and Papa.”_

_Danny and Alicia took turns stroking the little girl’s hair._

December 13, 2014

“Maybe I should have worn the dress.” CJ stared at herself in the mirror and frowned. “I look fat. And are you really going to wear that?”

Paul looked over at his wife in her black and red color-blocked fleece top with black fleece pants, then down at his new Dartmouth sweatshirt and khakis.

“Sweetheart, you look pregnant. Your face is glowing, your hair is perfect. And even if you didn’t look great, these are your friends. They’re coming to see you, not your wardrobe. Morgan said Sam’s in jeans and a Princeton sweatshirt; I’m just keeping up my end of the Ivy League.”

When California’s First Lady had called ninety minutes ago to let them know that the bus was on its way, she emphasized that everything was to be casual.

A few minutes later, they heard the sounds of traffic as the motorcade pulled up outside the house. Paul answered the door and stepped back as two troopers entered and did a quick check of the premises.

Then the door to the bus opened and the crowd descended on them.

CJ and Morgan bumped stomachs trying to kiss each other’s cheeks.

Carol had big hugs for her former boss and the minister who had guided her and David through their pre-marriage preparation and who had enlivened their church before he left to marry CJ.

Charlie, Zoey, Ellie, and Vic said they brought the love of the Bartlets to their “fourth daughter” and her family.

“Toby. Andy.” Paul put his left arm around CJ’s hips as he offered his right hand to the man, subconsciously sending out a “she’s mine now” message. “Congratulations and much happiness.”

CJ kissed Andy, and then lightly pressed her lips to Toby’s cheek. “Congratulations, I’m so happy for the both of you, for all four of you.” There was still a hint of unease between the two old friends.

Paddy said hello to everyone and Paul showed off Caitlin for a few minutes. Then a female state trooper took charge of the children. The woman verified Will and Amy Marshall’s address with CJ, then took the children to spend the afternoon and early evening with the friends who offered to watch the kids while the reunion took place.

“I’m not about to give a tour,” CJ told her friends. “Just go ahead and snoop wherever you want to. My husband insists you’ve come to see me and not my housekeeping skills.”

Within twenty minutes, they were snacking, drinking, gossiping, and watching football.

It was almost time to serve the main course, so CJ did a quick head count. It seemed that everyone was in the family room or the dining room except for Toby. When he didn’t come out of either the powder room or the communal bath after five minutes, CJ went exploring.

She found him in the living room, looking at the array of photos on the credenza and the various tables and book shelves.

“Hey there.”

“Hi.” He was holding her wedding portrait with Danny, but looking at the one with Paul.

“Do you know how lucky you are, CJ? I don’t think I’ve ever seen a woman look as wondrously happy as you do in both these pictures.”

“I know,” she answered quietly, looking closely at his face. There was a peaceful calm, a sense of quiet security that she had never seen on her friend in all the years she had known him. (About as long as she had known Paul, she suddenly realized, remembering that she and Toby had first met a few months after she and Paul had become intimate.)

He appeared happy, but she had seen that look before, back when he had fallen in love with, and then married Andy the first time, back before whatever had occurred that made the love between the Maryland congresswoman and the speechwriter not be enough to sustain the marriage. He seemed joyous, but she had also seen that joy before, on that terrible/wonderful day when Zoey Bartlet had been kidnapped and Huck and Molly had been born. In all their years together, she had seen Tobias Zachary Ziegler happy, excited, joyous, laughing, smiling; before today, she had never seen him content.

“It’s going to work this time, Toby. You and Andy are going to make it.”

“From your lips to His ear, but yes, I feel it also.”

“What’s different this time?” If the situation between Toby and Andy had been reversed, if he had been the one pushing her away, she would have been concerned that perhaps he had turned to Andy because she had married Paul, because she had made herself unattainable to him.

“I’m not sure. Andy says I’ve changed, that I see good where before I only saw bad. She also said that part of it was because I went after the PhD. My dissertation was approved last week, so come next May, I’ll be Dr. Zeigler, thanks to you.”

“Toby!” she squealed, hugging him as best she could, given her expanded middle. Then she told him that she would, in all likelihood be beginning work on her own doctorate once she weaned the new baby.

She asked him if he agreed with Andy, if he did tend to see good more easily now. He told her that he was. It was strange, he told her. Early last April, he was having a restless night, so he poured himself some scotch to help him sleep. When he fell asleep, he dreamt, and he dreamt of Danny. Danny told him that life was way too short, way too uncertain to be always anticipating the worst. “It’s hard, I know, it’s imbedded in our DNA,” Danny told him, “my Irish genes and your Jewish ones. But fight it. Accept the joy of your children, of your profession, and most of all, of your friends. Toby, you and I are bound together by CJ, and by something else I can’t tell you about. Believe it or not, I care for you.”

After that, Toby told her, he did start trying and as he tried, it became easier and easier. When the twins graduated from middle school in early June, he and Andy spent a wonderful weekend with the kids, and things began to click at that point.

When he asked in early August, Andy said yes. They were thinking about going back to the doctor, to try for another child.

“So you may have to give up your title as oldest parent in the gang,” he laughed.

“Gladly,” she said.

They sat on the couch.

“So everything’s okay? You don’t miss Danny? He’s treating you right? And the kids?”

“Everything is wonderful. I miss Danny every day and yet I am so much in love with Paul. He worships me. Paddy and Caitlin adore him. Derrick and Deborah are wonderful. Given a world without Danny, it’s the best of all possible ones.”

They continued to sit in comfortable silence, interrupted by comments and questions, but not feeling forced to make conversation. As is true in so many cases of close platonic relationships between men and women, each of them had often wondered what might have happened had both of them been emotionally free and searching at the same time, but neither of them had ever felt an unrequited love.

Looking back, Toby realized that his feelings for her right before and right after Danny died, and when he found out she would be marrying Paul were founded more on feelings on what he should do as opposed to what he wanted to do.

Passing by the doorway, Paul looked in, saw them laughing easily with each other, and smiled to himself. Make no mistake about it, to the extent that there was any contest, he was glad he won and Toby lost, but he was also glad that CJ had her friend back. He caught snippets of conversation.

“Remember when you broke the window in Manchester?”

“When you told us that Andy was pregnant, at Debate Camp, my heart was so happy for you.”

“I still remember you in the pool, not able to see a damned thing, telling me to avert my eyes.”

“That night at the Newseum—.”

“You know, Claudia Jean, now that I see you here with him, with his baby, I see the girl I met when I came out here to light a fire under the Young Dems, and I know this is right for you.”

He left the two of them to their memories and returned to his other guests; CJ and Toby could eat later. Later in the day, CJ was talking with Andy. “I don’t know, CJ, it was like Danny came to me in a dream and told me that I needed to give Toby another chance, that he loved me beyond all imagining and that the kids needed both of us together in their lives.”

The catering staff was efficient but very unobtrusive, keeping the food trays filled and the bar stocked, but allowing them to serve themselves and to talk in relative anonymity.

The Santos administration was winding down, but Josh drew the short straw, so he and Donna didn’t make the trip. However, they were looking forward to life in Virginia. (“Josh says he’s not going to put on a tie for at least a month, unless someone dies.”) They had leased their Georgetown condo to someone on the incoming Secretary of Labor’s staff.

John and Margaret were going to keep their Washington town house, but were planning to spend at least the next full year on the ranch in Texas. (“Bruno’s okay with it,” John said. “Hell, there are at least three small houses on the property. He’s welcome to one of them any time he wants to come out and spend some private time with his son, in addition to the times that the lad will be going to Florida or New York. Hoop is so excited, I haven’t had the heart to tell him he’s too young for his own pony just yet.”)

As David was a career employee of the State Department, he, Carol, Clarissa and Sean would be staying in the area. Carol was trying to decide between a job with the DNC and being a “stay at home” mom.

Charlie and Zoey were looking for a home in Newton; his clerkship with the Chief Justice in Massachusetts had caught the attention of Harvard’s General Counsel and now Charlie was a member of the university’s legal staff. When asked about any plans to increase their family, Zoey blushed and Charlie said they were having fun trying. (CJ remembered Danny telling her that Scott had made a similar suggestion and smiled at the thought). Zoey mentioned that Liz had been approached to run for their father’s old House seat and was considering the move.

When asked, Nancy said “We’ve only been married for three months, give us some time to get adjusted!”; Jesse said that just because **he** was conceived on his parents’ honeymoon didn’t mean that he and Nancy were going to react to family pressure “from either side.”

Ellie and Vic had been granted tenure at Stanford several years ago and would probably be there until they were ready to retire. Her father had stopped trying to guilt them into returning to the East coast.

Bonnie had been elected to the Hollis Foundation board of trustees and would be shifting from an executive to an advisory position. Jean-Luc had decided to cede the chair of the French department at Cal Poly to a younger professor in order to have more time with his daughters and his wife.

Rick had been reelected to his House seat and had been chosen Minority Whip. (The Democrats had lost the House by one seat but had held onto the Senate. Haffley was not going to have an easy presidency.)

Sam had won reelection as easily as he had won the first time and was looking forward to four more years in Sacramento. Everyone was very careful to not talk about what might come after this second term, but everyone knew what everyone else was thinking.

December 21, 2014

“So, Deborah, what’s going on?”

“It’s really nothing, Daddy, please believe me.”

“Honey, when you close yourself off like this, I worry about you.”

“Daddy, with Paddy and Caitlin and the new baby, you really don’t have time to worry about my problems.”

She could see the hurt in his eyes and spoke again quickly, realizing that her words had come out wrong.

“I didn’t mean it like that, Daddy! I know that you love me, that you love Derrick! I meant that I’m older, that I don’t need as much micro-concern as the little ones do.” She reached over to kiss him, half in apology, half in reassurance.

“Deborah, I’m going to be concerned about you to my dying day. And remember, you’ll always be my first baby.”

“For a whole thirty-nine minutes,” the girl replied and the two of them laughed.

“Those thirty-nine minutes were very important to you for a while.” He smiled at the memory of squabbles over who should be the first to stop playing in order to take a bath and who should have to sit at the “children’s table” at holiday meals with Bernice’s parents.

“ _Maman told the twins that they were acting immaturely and let my niece Louise’s little girl, who was much better behaved, sit with the grownups even though she was a year younger than Derrick and Deborah,” Bernice told Danny’s and CJ’s mothers. The three women were enjoying the hot tub at the spa on Ganymede while Esther was enjoying the attentions of Thor, the young masseur assigned to the four of them._

“I know you and Derrick talked over Thanksgiving. No, he didn’t tell me anything,” he hastened to assure her,”just that I shouldn’t worry too much; but please don’t shut me out, baby.”

“Part of it is not quite knowing what the real issue is, Daddy. First of all, let me reassure you, I’m not pregnant, I’m not sick, I’m not flunking out of school, and I’m not in any trouble financially or legally.”

“Is it a guy?” he asked; then a thought came to him, “or a girl?”

She looked up at him at that last statement. “A girl? Me?”

“I didn’t think so, but it happens. And you **do** know it wouldn’t matter, don’t you?”

“No, it’s a guy, very much a guy.”

Giving in the inevitable, she told him about the fourth-year Med School student she had been seeing. Paul smiled when she described how the young man told her that he had known before the party at which they met was over that they were fated for each other; he well knew the feeling.

“So when do we meet this young man?” Part of him was sad at the idea of losing his daughter, but part of him was happy to be moving on to this next phase of life. He was going to enjoy the “concerned father” role.

“Well, he hasn’t asked in words of one syllable, and if and when he does, I’m not sure what my answer will be. I wish Mom were here; I wish I could ask her how she knew she could give up everything for you.”

“He wants you to stop school?”

“No, nothing like that. I mean, after this last internship, it’s just a matter of doing the dissertation, so geography isn’t an issue. But he has all his hopes set on a residency in Alaska, working with the native populations in traveling clinics. I always dreamed of writing for the _Times_ , or the _Post_ , like Danny. If I go with him, I’ll be sending in pieces to the _Kodiak Daily Mirror_ or the _Nome Nugget_.”

“ _Nothing wrong with either of those papers,” Danny said. “The Nugget is Alaska’s oldest newspaper. The rules are the same, no matter the paper. It’s the research, the writing, the passion, and the integrity that matter.”_

“ _Even if I were there, darling, all I could tell you is to follow your heart.” Alicia ran her hand through her daughter’s hair._

“In any event, he now wants to give me ‘time and space’; except to make sure that I’m okay and that I know he cares, he’s gonna leave me alone, for the most part, while I’m here, and maybe for a while after I go back in February. He told me to let my mind be peaceful and quiet, so I can hear what God would be telling me.”

Paul decided that he already liked this possible son-in-law.

“Daddy, I’m sure you probably don’t keep things from CJ, but I could barely share this with Derrick, and you saw how you had to drag it out of me. I’m just not ready to -”

“Baby, part of being a minister is keeping all sorts of secrets for all sorts of people.”

December 22, 2014; the Grand Café, San Francisco, CA

“Would you like to check your coat?” Paul smiled at Deborah. At her nod, he helped her remove the garment, handed it to the coat-check clerk, and took the ticket.

Then he straightened his cuffs, and checked the mirror to make sure his tie was straight.

As they were led to their table, Paul was aware of the attention they were receiving from the other diners. Deborah was obviously much younger than he was, and since her facial features were those of Alicia rather than of him, it was not readily apparent that they were father and child. There was admiration cast at him by the older male diners, curiosity, and speculation by the women.

The maitre d’ seated Deborah with a grand flourish and set the menus to the left of their place plates.

“Dr. Reeves, Richard (he pronounced the name in the French manner, “Ree-SHARD”) will be with you shortly. In the meantime, may I relay a drink order for you and your lovely daughter to the bar?”

Paul noticed that the older men seemed to sigh as if their egos were no longer defensive and that the women smiled with approval. The younger men looked at his daughter with new interest, now that she was more attainable than she had appeared to be fifteen seconds earlier.

“Deux Dubonnet rouge avec citron,” he told the man. “And then please ask Richard to give us some time.”

It could very well be his last chance to share a special meal in a special place with a special daughter for at least five years. If that were to be the case, Paul would have no regrets, but he did want to have memories to sustain him until Caitlin and then the new little girl who already had her hands on his heart were old enough to carry on the custom.

“Moments to Remember”

as sung by The Four Lads

The New Year's Eve we did the town  
The day we tore the goal post down  
We will have these moments to remember

The quiet walks, the noisy fun  
The ballroom prize we almost won  
We will have these moments to remember

Though summer turns to winter  
And the present disappears  
The laughter we were glad to share  
Will echo through the years

When other nights and other days  
May find us gone our separate ways  
We will have these moments to remember

(The drive in movie where we'd go)  
(And somehow never watched the show)  
We will have these moments to remember

Though summer turns to winter  
And the present disappears  
The laughter we were glad to share  
Will echo through the years

When other nights and other days  
May find us gone our separate ways  
We will have these moments to remember

“This Day God Gives Me”

attributed to St. Patrick

This day God gives me strength of high heaven

Sun and moon shining, flame in my hearth;

Flashing of lightning, wind in its swiftness

Depths of the ocean, firmness of earth.

This day God sends me strength as my guardian

Might to uphold me, wisdom as guide;

Your eyes are watching, Your ears are list’ning

Your lips are speaking, Friend at my side.

God’s way is my way, God’s shield is round me

God’s host defends me, saving from ill;

Angels of heaven, drive from me always

All that would harm me, stand by me still.

Rising I thank you, mighty and strong One

King of creation, giver of rest;

Firmly confessing Threeness of Persons

Oneness of Godhead, Trinity blest.


End file.
